Page 276 of Once an Angel
A light snow had begun to fall. It dusted Justin's hair as he handed Emily into the waiting carriage. She threw herself into the broad seat opposite him and slumped into a sullen knot. She shoved his opera
cloak from her shoulders, finding its rugged warmth offensive. It smelled warm and spicy, like Justin's bay rum. Like his bare skin heated by an island sun. A stray tendril of hair flopped out of her topknot;
she irritably raked it away.
The carriage lurched into motion. They rode in dead silence. Emily stared at the curtained window.
Justin stared at her. She could feel the condemning heat of his gaze.
The confines of the carriage seemed to grow smaller with each turn of the wheels. They were cordoned off from the winter night by the cozy glow of the lantern and the warmth wafting from the coal footstove. Justin seemed bigger somehow, more overwhelming. His arms were crossed over his chest, his long legs relaxed in an arrogant sprawl. Her senses were enveloped by the sound of his breathing, his heat, his masculine scent. An arc of tension sizzled between them.
When she could no longer bear the silence, she said, "Doesn't it concern you that half of London thinks you a madman?"
His eyes flicked over her like tawny flames. "Better than having them think you a shameless trollop."
She gasped, stinging from the unfair cut. "What's wrong, Justin? Does it gall you because a man found
me attractive? Because he dared to treat me as a woman, not a child?"
He snorted. "I'd hardly call that freckled toad a man."
"As avidly as you were watching us, you probably counted every one of those freckles. Wasn't your
own trollop holding your interest, or are you one of those debauched men who gets his thrills by spying on others?"
His eyes darkened. "What are they teaching at Foxworth's these days—de Sade? Your education has been quite extensive, my dear."
"Not as extensive as yours, I'm sure."
He spoke through gritted teeth. "When we get to the house, you will go directly to your room. I will no longer tolerate your insolence."
Her voice rose to a shout. "You can't tell me what to do. You're nor my father!"
Her words hung in the air. Justin went utterly still. A thoughtful glint appeared in his eyes. Then a smile
of profound wonder slanted his lips. "Why, I'll be damned. I'm not, am I?"
Then he was on her. He came across the carriage with the grace of a lunging tiger, bearing her back into the plush cushion. His mouth came down on hers in an unholy surrender to a dark and sweet temptation. His tongue savaged her mouth even as his hand reached up with cool calculation to extinguish the lamp, leaving Emily to drown in his taste, his fragrance, the feel of his hands hot and rough against the bare
skin of her shoulders. The darkness rendered him a dangerous stranger. His touch consumed her in
flame. She couldn't fight him. She could only cling to him, bunching the fine broadcloth of his coat in
her helpless fists.
Not only did she no longer know him. She no longer knew herself. Who was this wanton who moaned and tugged at the dusky silk of his hair, drawing him deeper into her kiss? Their bodies slid against the lush velvet, gliding downward, ever downward, into forbidden delight.
He muttered soft, rough words against her lips. His hands reached for her skirt, too fervent in their need to be anything but clumsy. She lifted her hips to help him until she lay beneath him, her dress bunched around her waist, thighs parted, garters and stockings sprawled in wanton abandon. A word that might have been either prayer or oath escaped him as he molded the damp cambric of her drawers to the silky mound beneath.
When his beautiful, strong fingers slipped beneath the fabric to touch her, Emily, who had so long prided herself on her fierce independence, hid her face in his shirt, unable to face the terrifying knowledge that there was nothing she wouldn't let this man do to her. Nothing.
Pleasure ribboned through her in dark cascades as he gently fingered her throbbing flesh, all of his haste and clumsiness vanquished by wonder and grace. Too soon she felt the first shiver of ecstasy approaching through the darkness. A soft cry escaped her as he brought her to a sweet, fierce climax that shattered them both.
For an eternity there was no sound within the carriage but the hoarse rasp of their breathing in the darkness. Slowly, other sensations came into play: the rocking motion of the carriage, the clatter of the wheels against cobblestones, the jingle of the harness ringing like a bell in the crisp winter air.
The bitter wine of guilt poured through Justin. Emily nestled into his chest like some small, fragile creature, kneading his waistcoat between her fingers. He had never meant to humble her, but to exalt her with his touch. A latent tremor rocked her, and he cupped his arm around her, beset by a fierce desire to protect what was his.
Take care of my little angel, Justin. Swear you will.
